Every Rose Has Its Bones
by Dirk-Steadfast
Summary: Rose Weasley is in charge of the school. She wants to dance (sort of), but is willing to sacrifice any who get in her way to see this dream to fruition. Only Scorpius has a chance of stopping her.


**A/N: This story had a little helper elf in the form of my paramour, also, Ol' Bob was there. If you seem to notice an extra amount of estrogen that is why.**

Every Rose Has Its Bones

It was a day like any other at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. The sun was there, even. What made this day so extraordinary? . . . Extra Ordinary. Even more ordinary than usual. In the shadow of war, everything seems kinda dull. Rose Weasley, protagonist, feminist, hottie, funambulist, keeper of wisdom, sophist. She was all of these things, but most people only seemed to care about the "hottie" part of her. And who are you to blame them, dweeb? She is 100% kosher hottie!

Though the day was ordinary, the magic preformed by Rose was extraordinary. Kinda cruel, though. She gave ants the power to scream, and the hope that they might survive, right before she squashed them. She also resurrected an uncooked chicken, and made it dance in front of its family.

Enter Tobias Longbottom. Longerbottom, grumpy, chubster, asthmatic, drinker of gravy, friendzone. He wore a fedora, stained with shame. The rest of his outfit didn't matter, but it sure as shit didn't look pleasing.

Tobias walked up to Rose, the bosom of whom heaved a heavy sigh at his approach.

"I brought you a sandwich," said the boy. He pulled out of his robes a sticky pb&j which was missing a few bites already.

"Wipe the gravy off your mouth and say that again." Rose didn't even look back at him.

Tobias licked his lips, relishing the taste, and said, "I brought you a sandwich. It's really good."

"More like a _Sadwich!_" yelled Rose, eyes still upon the dancing chicken.

"I don't get it." Tobias then took a few more bites out of the sandwich. It seemed now to be in the shape of a frown.

"What do you want Tobias?"

"The Winter Formal Wizard Dance, you know about it?"

"The WFWD? I'm on the planning committee. What of it?"

The whole sandwich was in his mouth now. He spoke thickly. "I waz wondrin, if you woo do me de honor o helpin me onto the dance floor, and then dancing with me." He chewed for a few seconds, swallowed hard and lost his breath. He took a hearty swig of gravy and composed himself. "Sorry. Mind if I take another crack at it?"

"How about you take another quack at it?!" Rose threw the enchanted chicken at Tobias, who caught it and began to sweat from hunger. The empty neck of the chicken started speaking to Tobias. "The flesh of many a dead bird has passed between those teeth," it said. "But revenge is what I hunger for." With that, the chicken swallowed Tobias Longbottom whole. Within the stomach of the chicken, Rose heard Tobias say, "It's really dark in here." The chicken, full of man, ran into the forest, a new and terrible addition to the ecosystem. It was never heard from again except when mentioned in the terrified whispers of children.

Rose dusted the dirt from her robes and walked back to the school. She was in charge of most of it, the teachers answered to her. The buck stopped when she commanded it to. Her will was law, her law was absolute, and the two never mixed.

Enter one Scorpius "Bill" Malfoy. Sleek, shiny, new Hondai, vulpine, ardent poke-maniac. But he could never catch them all. As if in a Kafka-esque nightmare, Rose forever eluded him. He was a rebel without a cause, save for one; bone Rose Weasley. That was why he was also on the WFWD planning committee. He was executive vice president of streamer (which he hated (not because of the streamers, but because he loathed democracy)). This became another cause for him to follow. And like in a line of ants, he followed splendidly.

The committee met in the great hall, greater now for their presence. Rose entered. You could hear a pin drop . . . because everyone dropped their pins (it was haberdasher night). She called the meeting to order, then they ordered pizza. One student protested the super-delux seven styles of meat lovers pie, saying, "I'm, like, totally a kosher vegan."

Rose obliterated her with but a thought. Even the memory of her was lost to the winds and human thought degradation. All that was left of that poor girl was her robes and her cat who wore its own set of robes which were cute beyond understanding.

Rose obliterated the cat. She then blew on the phallic end of her smoking wand. Half-formed chubbies were had by many a lad surrounding.

Oval Lovegood stood to speak, "Friends," (she pronounced the word as though she was from New Zealand "freeind"), "Compatriots, cohorts, companions, chums, blood brothers, and all other synonyms for buddy."

A random stranger yelled out across the room, "Shut up, Oval! Your name is stupid and you have a mouth that makes whores blush!"

Rose could have, at any moment, obliterated this man, and that was enough for her.

Oval continued, "We gather ourselves here today, not without aplomb, to dissect the aspects of what makes a good dance transition into a transcendent one."

No one liked hearing Oval speak.

Seamus's son, Hamush, thought, at times, that he was a specter. This thought came about because most people ignored him the way I'm about to start doing.

Scorpius tossed a damp napkin at Rose to get her attention. It was drenched with his mucilage. Rose removed the slick, discarded napkin, and looked around, looking for a date to obliterate. Alas, Scorpius was just looking for a date, and thus Rose ignored him wholly. "Anyway," Rose said, "we still need to address the dress code."

Oval Lovegood raised her hand, but didn't wait to be called on. "I propose the dance should be semi-semi-formal-"

Random stranger: "WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN OVAL?! HOW CAN YOU BE SEMI-SEMI-FORMAL?!"

"Well," Oval said, erecting a large easel. "Let me explain that with my 36-point presentation explaining the rules for governing the planning of a semi-'semi'-formal dance...You see, the second semi is ironic-"

Rose delivered unto Oval a powerful peanut butter curse, shutting the poor girl's mouth for at least a good eight minutes as she unstuck her tongue like a lolligagging canine.

"The ensemble for the evening will consist only of an unflattering frock for all participants," Rose said, "And everyone must receive sexually ambiguous haircuts, given by me. I, however, will be wearing a golden gown spun by virgins, with the ass feathers of Dumbledore's bird as my headdress. The theme of the night will be, 'Look at me. Now look at you. Now look at me.' Any questions?"

Shyla Thomas, spawn of Dean, asked, "Can I still wear my pumps?"

"No. Everyone will wear rough clogs, made by Hagrid. I will be wearing shoes made from the skeleton of the basilisk. I sent a first-year down to collect the skeleton, and he may or may not have—but probably may—gotten a lungfull of asbestos. But I haven't bothered to check on him."

Oval had cleared her mouth of peanut butter earlier than expected. "What kind of dancing will there be?"

"There will be no dancing! We shall sit in a large circle, chanting Gregorian hymns for three hours while I play the pan flute. Attendance is mandatory. Failure to attend will result in a severe obliteration. This is my coronation."

"What are you becoming queen of?"

Rose obliterated her for her hubris. "I'm in the empire business," Rose said.

Scorpius, who had by now enough causes to be rebel about, raisedhis hand politely and said (in rebellion) and asked, "But, Rose, have you decided when you're going to yank that stick that's stuck up your asshole?"

Utter silence paraded around the room (except for the Random Guy, who shouted, "Ba ba boosh!" and exeunted before obliteration could commence). Rose got up quietly and made her way over to Scorpius. She locked eyes with him. "No one," she said in a whisper, "has ever said anything like that to me since my parents were unfortunately obliterated. By yours truly."

"Well," Scorpius said, "get used to it sister! For too long you have held the school in a tyrannical, manicured grip! I will set them free!"

"Or...we can do it, and then you rule beside me as Prince Consort. What do you say, Bill?"

He grimaced, but then he said, "Okaaaaaaay."

THE END

**A/N: If you made it this far I'm sorry. This was stupid. But if you say its stupid then a curse on your house. My paramour will put a pox on you. You should know that she doesn't exist in "time" per se.**


End file.
